The Misbegotten Adventures of the Dovahkiin
by DragonflyxParodies
Summary: Athe is a hyperactive Bosmer thief from the streets of Riften, obsessed with books and wealth. Nyt is a practical Argonian warrior from Winterhold. Our two unlikely friends are forced together by a (cruel) twist of fate-because Nyt is the Dragonborn, just as surely as Athe is the Dovahkiin. Together, they have to keep each other from forgetting (ignoring)-the world needs them. Now.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't often I left home. After the last time-Something I dubbed "The Helgen Incident" and spoke nothing about, to anyone, Jarl or not-and the following Shout I had accidentally ingested (Was that the right word? Ingested? Maybe absorbed would work better, but when you absorb something, you don't feel it forcing its way down your throat), I'd only gone to speak to Arngeir, refused his offer of training, and promptly locked myself in Riften.

Unfortunately, after going through the mountains of books that cluttered my small house, I'd finally read up on one particular ancient crypt that had held my interest. Bleak Falls Barrow.

So, I'd grabbed my weapons-my partner, an Ebony bow with a Storm enchantment, a quiver of glass arrows, and a Daedric sword of Vampire that I had stolen from a house and never let leave my side-and promptly set out with nothing but the clothes-literally, clothes, as I had no armor-on my back and a vague idea of how to say a healing spell.

An hour into the dungeon-I could tell I was following in the steps of someone who had passed by not too recently-I got bored, and happened to emerge into a massive burial chamber with bodies stacked to the roof.

Bad things happen when I get bored.

"NAMIRA'S ROT TAKE YOU ALL!" I shouted-it was my favorite curse with a Daedric Lord's name in it that people wouldn't kill me on sight for saying-and I charged into the room, swinging my sword.

I hadn't technically had any formal training in combat besides archery. So it was mostly my sword that did the work-being made of Daedric metal, it had a personality and could subtly influence my movements to suit its own needs, something the spell only gave more power too. Mara forbid it ever decided I needed to die-I had no inclinations to go stabbing myself yet, but the sword could easily change that.

I-technically, the sword-cut down another Draugr and I turned. An Argonian stood there, gaping in shock with one of her swords dangling from her fingertips. As if my amused look had made her realize what was going on, she drew her other blade and jumped into the fight.

"What are you doing here?!" She yelled, neatly decapitating another Draugr.

"Getting a Shout." I called monotonously, shoving my back against hers as another wave of mummified corpses charged us.

I felt her suck in a sharp breath, and I frowned as we finished up the horde. I sheathed my blade and turned-

-to find a blade colder than the Sea of Ghosts resting on my collarbone.

"Were you being sarcastic?" Even as she asked it, I could see her already deciding that's what I'd meant-_yes, that's it, she was just being sarcastic, ha ha, that silly Bosmer-_and I scowled.

Fine. Proof.

"_UL!"_ The Argonian shoved her sword forward, her momentum taking her forward. She recovered into a nice roll, and I'd have complimented her on it had she not tried to kill me.

My scowl deepened as I leaned against one of the pillars behind her, tapping my foot.

"That's impossible!" She gasped. She'd gotten to her feet and now stared at me. I'd never seen an Argonian with such huge eyes.

"No, that's called a Shout."

"You can't do that!"

"I've never been one for rules…"

"That was a _Shout!"_

"You don't have to shout when you say it, you know. The name itself is pretty self-explanatory."

"But...I'm the Dragonborn!"

"And I'm the Dovahkiin. Nice to meet you!"

She stopped panicking long enough to give me a very impressive death glare, and then promptly turned and Shouted at the corpses littering the floor.

"_TOOR!"_

"Ooh! I saw some skeever's back there-we can roast 'em! They're actually not that bad if you don't mind eating decayed feet, but-"

"_Will you shut it?!"_ She snapped, stopping me mid-rant. I visibly deflated (It was dramatic, of course. It's not every day you find out that you're the legendary hero who's going to save all of existence from a dragon so hungry he's literally called the _World Eater_ and then find out you're not alone) but I didn't argue.

The flames she'd created flickered dryly against stone walls, and I dropped down in front of one. The smell was terrible, of course, but I'd lived in the streets of Riften for years. My nose had no life.

"How is this possible?" She demanded, looking at me.

"Well, there are two names. Dragonborn and Dovahkiin. Maybe it's more than just a translation issue. Or maybe Fate realized the world was going to Oblivion with me, because I told Arngeir he could shove his prophecy up Mehrune Dagon's-"

"This is insane."

"I betcha Sheograth is enjoying this." I cackled, falling onto my back.

I wasn't very concerned with suddenly having another person to take my place. I was mostly amused.

Even more amused, because the fate of Skyrim now rested in the hands of an Argonian and a Bosmer, both of whom were from races not only looked down upon in Skyrim but races infamous for thievery and con work. The Stormcloaks would be overjoyed!

"This isn't funny. Why are you here anyway?"

"Uh….I read about this place in a book, so I came out of my self-imposed hibernation and made the trek. Which, was a very long trek. Riften is pretty far away…"

"All of that for a _book?_" She demanded. I shrugged.

"You?"

"I'm helping the Jarl of Whiterun. His wizard, something-or-other Secret-Fire, hired me to get a tablet. So I'm getting it."

Curious. Was she a mercenary? Or had she just been roped into it?

Lacking enough heat to successfully melt the ancient armor the Draugr wore and having exhausted dried linen and flesh, the fire was beginning to die out. I stood, stretched, then flashed a grin at the Argonian.

"I'm Athe."

"Nyt." She replied, her tail swishing behind her. I'd noticed she didn't have much of an accent-she must have been raised here in Skyrim. Definitely not in Honorhall, like me, but somewhere. Whiterun, perhaps?

"By the way…" I trailed off as I rummaged through the bag sagging on my hip (Who knew there could be so much treasure in an old Nordic ruin that the Argonian had already went through?), eventually producing the object I'd been looking for.

"This is your tablet, right?"

Yes, an Argonian's eyes really _could_ get that big.

**_XXXXXXX_**

**_So, this is a collaboration with Agent Firebird. She'll post her character's chapters under the title "The Misbegotten Adventures of the Dragonborn" Whenever she gets around to it. I'll post a link when she does. Anyway, this is my first attempt at comedy (It feels so awkward to type this stuff O.O), so please review. I'd very much appreciate it!_**

**_Moving on-this won't actually follow gameplay strictly. As will get very obvious soon...But I hope you enjoy it._**


	2. Chapter 2

I shifted uncomfortably as the doors to Dragonsreach swung open. A Jarl's palace was definitely not the ideal place for a thief, and even if I was squished so close to Nyt that it looked like I was trying to get under her armor, I could feel the glares of the guards on my back.

Now, there'd been a time when I would have flippantly told the aforementioned guards to go do something unmentionable to a Falmer (Even if the guards wouldn't have known what that was-it constantly amazed me how ignorant the people of Skyrim could be). But a year or so ago, I'd been caught by a guard in Riften.

Now, there are two types of guards. Those easily bribed and/or who don't give a septim about what happens as long as it isn't a murder, and the zealots who are determined to 'purify' Riften. My apprehender happened to be in the second, much less pleasant, class. He'd broken an arm and a couple of ribs before Grelka, one of my favorite people in all of Skyrim-even if she was the rudest-had intervened.

Grelka had only done so, I think, because I'd been pick-pocketing gold from a thief that had just stolen from her, but she'd saved my life. So I made a big show whenever I saw her, calling her my 'best friend' and other such nonsense. It embarrassed her, amused me, and kept her from calling the guards when she saw me discreetly borrow money from others.

Still, guards had freaked me out since.

"What are you doing?" Nyt hissed, startling me.

"I'm not a fan of guards." I muttered back.

"Nyt! You've returned! Do you have my…item?" A blue-cloaked man tore out of an adjoining room to the Great Hall and almost tackled Nyt, he was so eager. I flinched and slowly stepped away from Nyt. I didn't want to hit the ground if he _did_ tackle her.

He stopped dead when he saw me.

"Who's this?"

Nyt and I looked at each other.

"This is….my friend. Athe. I met up with her on the way back from…the Barrow."

I'd never heard a worse liar than Nyt. Honestly, weren't Argonians renowned for being shady? How in the world had Nyt made it this far? Hmm…Was she part Orc? They couldn't lie to save their own hides. It enraged Malacath or something equally stupid.

I snapped myself out of my thoughts when I realized both Nyt and the man were staring at me expectantly. And so was a woman who was suddenly standing at his shoulder, giving me the 'I-know-you-aren't-telling-the-truth-and-I'm-going -to-make-you-pay-for-it-later' look.

"What?"

"He asked how we met." Nyt growled, spitting the words out through clenched teeth.

"Oh. Uh, you know, the usual. A skooma den, practicing the Dibellan Arts, that sort of thing." I recovered from my stuttering with a sugary smile, which seemed to throw him off my sarcasm. The woman behind him cracked a fleeting smile at my joke.

"Um…" The man's face flamed and he seemed unable to continue.

Then my awesome-thief-ninja-sixth-sense skills kicked in, and I realized someone-a large someone-was looming over me. I turned quickly on my heel and scowled.

Of _course_ it was the Jarl. _Where's the Brotherhood when you need them_?

"Jarl Balgruuf-I brought back the tablet." Nyt said, turning. Her tail whacked painfully into my shins and I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. Blood promptly spurted over my tongue and I pulled a face, wiping at it with my sleeve as she began conversing with the Jarl and the blue-clad man, who I assumed was the mage, and the woman who was still glaring at me. I didn't mind-my attention was elsewhere.

Bookcases crammed so full with books that books were piled on the ground in front of them stood against each wall-I bolted for them, abandoning my newfound friend.

Thirteen books later, someone nudged my leg with their boot, and I looked up. A kid was staring at me, eyes dark and expression nothing more than a mask.

"Why are you reading?" His voice was just as blank as his expression.

I was screwed. No kid was that cold without something being seriously wrong.

"I have a slight obsession with books. And treasure. Gold. Basically anything shiny or with words."

"…The Lady says you'll do."

"….Lady…?"

"_Yes. The Dark Child is…too young. I need a Champion-you are...perfect for the part."_ A breezy woman's voice echoed around me-or maybe in my head. I had no experience with anyone talking silently, so I was a bit confused. How do you even talk _silently_ anyway?

"I'm not going to finish this book, am I?" I asked the boy ruefully. A smile flickered across his face and he shook his head.

"What does she need?" I asked, standing with a sigh. I marked the page I was on and hid it behind the bookcase I'd been sitting beside. The boy moved towards one of the long tables dominating the Great Hall and I followed.

"Father trapped her. Behind the Whispering Door. Only he and Farengar have keys to unlock it. She needs you to get it….And, no one will miss Farengar if he goes missing. They'll miss Father, though. They _always_ miss the Jarl."

_Had the kid really just…?_

"Who's Farengar?" My ignorance was obvious, but the kid seemed a bit surprised.

"Farengar Secret-Fire. The mage you spoke to earlier." He said, pointing. Ah. Farengar was the blue mage.

He was deep in a conversation with Nyt, the Jarl, and the lady who was still casting me glares. He seemed pretty animated, lifting his hands and throwing his arms wide, bouncing lightly with barely contained energy.

And Nyt called _me_ hyper.

"So what's in it for me?" I sighed, propping my hands on my hips. The kid cast me a strange look.

"Serving the Lady, of course."

"_My Blade….Rests with me. Do as I bid and you will wield my Ebony Blade, taste the sweetness of betrayal, and devour the hearts of your foes…"_

"It shines." The boy added.

"Fine. What's your name?" I relented. I assumed the disembodied voice was a Daedric Lord of some sort-after all, I had read a little about the Ebony Blade once before, and I vaguely recalled it being the weapon of Mephala. Or maybe Meridia. One of the two.

"Nelkir."

"Hello, Nelkir. I'm Athe. Now, hold on a second." I said, inching away from him. I turned to face Nyt's little powwow, and started jumping up and down, waving my arms. I didn't want the whole population of Whiterun to know what I had just agreed to do, but I needed to get Nyt's attention. I mouthed her name as best I could, but she cast me only a fleeting, annoyed look before turning to Farengar.

_Mara damned Argonian…_

I started flailing my limbs a little harder, and I saw the Jarl turn to Nyt, who was in the middle of giving me another glare. She stepped neatly in front of him and blocked his view of me, but the Jarl was a very tall man. His head slowly craned around the side of Nyt's head and he glared at me, gaze flitting from Nelkir to me to the pile of books I'd dragged over to his table. I very slowly lowered my arms and turned stiffly to face Nelkir.

"Is he always like that?" I demanded. Nelkir was returning his father's glare, so intently and so angrily I felt myself flinch.

Note: Never get on this kid's bad side. Even if the Daedric influence _were_ to leave him, he'd be one scary guy.

"Worse." Nelkir muttered.

"_ATTACK!"_ I jumped, startled as the scream shattered the relative quiet of the Great Hall. A guard, smoke rising from his scorched armor and helmet askew, staggered up the stairs towards the Jarl. The Jarl turned and the man clammed up, face burning.

"What?" The Jarl's voice carried clearly, even as Nelkir and I inched forward. He sounded angry, annoyed.

"A dragon, my Jarl!"

Oh….Damn.

"Where?" The Jarl demanded, reaching forward and grabbing the fabric the man wore beneath his armor, which fell to black ash at the rough contact.

"At…the south…watchtower! I ran as fast as I could, Jarl-"

"IRILETH!" The Jarl roared, cutting the man off. Nelkir and I exchanged glances, him excited, mine amused, and a Dunmer stepped out of the shadows fairly close to the Jarl.

"I'll gather a troop immediately, my Jarl." She said, snapping a quick salute with her blade before turning.

"Wait, Irileth. You survived Helgen, Argonian. I ask that you accompany my Housecarl. You are, for lack of a better term, our resident dragon expert." His sardonic tone put him instantly on my 'least favorite people ever' list. But more important than that-

_-Nyt had been at Helgen too?!_

"Come on, Athe!" Nyt shouted, already following the Dunmer. Nelkir looked at me again and I sighed, drawing my bow as I hurried after her.

I did _not_ like dragons.


	3. Chapter 3

"Come on! You can do better than that!" I shouted, kicking my legs in the air excitedly. Nyt cast me a glare just before the dragon's wing swallowed her up again. I let another arrow fly, this one carefully dipped in poison. It tore through the dragon's hide-the scales were actually pretty small, interlocked to form a mesh. But the scales were still made of flesh-just toughened flesh-and my glass arrows had little trouble turning the magnificent beast into a porcupine.

I was perched on the very top of the watchtower, bow loaded and sitting comfortably against a flagpole that had miraculously escaped the dragon's inferno.

I'd already killed a dragon-I wasn't going to kill this one. Mostly because it was pretty, even if it was deadly, but I wasn't about to spit THAT out. Nyt would kill me, revive me then kill me again.

"C'mon, Nyt! It's only your cousin!" I called down-but I kept my voice down. Nyt had already taken the time to throw one dead guard's sword at me, and I didn't want another one to almost impale me. She had a good arm. A _really_ good arm.

Apparently the dragon heard, though, because a second later a gout of fire was racing towards me. I hid behind the flagpole-stupid, I know-and it just missed me, although it set the flag itself aflame.

"HEY UGLY!" She screamed, flailing her arms like I'd been doing earlier. The dragon turned, leveled his head until he was glaring into her eyes, and growled. She spun her swords about and charged.

I turned away at this point and glanced behind me, where an injured guard was sprawled across the stone that made up the tower's top level. Figuring she had the dragon under control, I started dragging him down the stairs.

_Thump…thump….thump…thump…_

"Sorry." I sang when he grunted for the twentieth time. When I left the tower I saw Nyt flash a glance at me, then she turned her head back around to face the dying dragon. She let out a strangled scream, and an ivory-and-gold light poured out of the dragon's carcass to suffuse every inch of her body. She looked like she was in pain, which made me frown.

For me, the experience had been different. Awkward and alien, but awkward in the sense of how strange it is to just learn to walk. I'd been pretty energized for a couple of days after the fact, which had led to my less-than-elegant slip-up with Arngeir. It'd felt like swallowing an egg, except I didn't use my body to swallow it. (By an egg, I meant a whole egg. Raw. Eggshells and all).

I picked up one of her swords and walked over to her, distractedly spinning the hilt around. The blade resting against my hilt glowered. I found it amusing that Daedric blades were so jealous, so possessive of their owners, even if they loathed them. I scavenged what arrows I could on my way-Most of the, thank the Divines, were in good shape.

Nyt's shoulders suddenly slumped and she swayed a bit, working her jaw and wincing in pain. I flashed a smile, but she only turned past me. I turned with her and saw a horde of guards surrounding us, Irileth at their lead.

"What?" Nyt demanded, suddenly extremely hostile and defensive. A couple guards gaped at her and one took a deep breath to begin spouting out what I already knew to be tales of the Dragonborn, so I grabbed Nyt's hand and violently yanked her after me. She didn't stumble but marched past me and took the lead as we headed back to Whiterun.

The sky suddenly roared, ferocious and overpowering. Words thundered across the plain to slam into us, driving me to my knees. There was suddenly no air in my lungs, and the world around me began to fade-darken and shift, until the colors were brilliant, some even I had no names for.

Just as quickly as it had happened, it was over. Shouts always did this to me. It was probably the only thing that could get me to shut up.

Nyt frowned at me, concerned. She stood as if nothing had happened. I couldn't understand why-how could she had _not_ felt that oppressive weight?-but I shook my head violently in return to her questioning gaze.

xXxXxXxXx

"There's something I need you to do for me, when we get back to Dragonsreach." I declared, struggling for breath as we trudged up the stairs.

"What?" Nyt asked, sounded exhausted.

"I need you to talk to Farengar." I said, keeping my voice low enough so no one would overhear but loud enough so that she wouldn't think I had any…suspicious motivations. The last thing I needed was her trying to lie. That would be like painting 'THIEF' to my chest in bright red letters.

"Why?"

"No questions." I snapped, pushing against her back. She flew through the doors of Dragonsreach and glared at me before walking up to the Jarl, who was already talking to Irileth.

I sat down heavily besides Nelkir, who was nibbling on some sort of meat, and rested my forehead against the table.

"Did you kill it?"

"No. Nyt did. I just slowed it down."

"With what?"

Rather than answer him, I pulled a bloodied arrow from my quiver and dropped it in front of him. He let out a very un-possessed-by-a-Daedric-Lord squeal, hugged me, realized what he was doing, hopped away, and bolted for what I assumed to be either his room or the Lady's chamber. I closed my eyes for another second or two before lifting my head and poking at what Nelkir had left on his plate-mostly bread and fruit. I saw Nyt's assemblage break up and hurried over to her, jerking my head in the direction of Farengar's study-I'd noted what room he went into before we'd gone to fight the dragon and assumed correctly. She sighed but headed over there, and I skipped past her.

Farengar was busy mixing some type of potion, so when Nyt came in, she coughed to get his attention. He started and turned-and I used the movement to slip behind him. He had his hood down, thank Mara, and I drew a small knife out of my boot.

A leather thong hung around his neck, and I could see the top of what appeared to be a key hanging against his collarbone. I frowned and gently began to work at it, keeping one eye on the doorway. Nyt was struggling not to gape at me.

"So…Whatcha doing?" She asked. Everything about her posture was awkward, everything about her voice wrong. She truly had no lying skills whatsoever.

"You're an alchemist as well, then?" He asked, sounding pleased.

"I do a little bit, when I need to. But I was wondering if you have any tips-I don't often get the chance to learn about it from an expert, you know." She added. It was thinly veiled, basic flattery, and I was entirely disappointed.

_I have much to teach you, Nyt…_

I cut the key off the thong and hurried back into the shadows of the room, a huge grin working its way across my face. I'd never attempted anything so difficult before. Usually I chose easy, rich marks. Not mages.

Nyt got Farengar to turn back to his potion-making ingredients, and I slipped out of the room. Nelkir was standing just outside the room and he flashed me a slow smile before marching across the Great Hall, obviously expecting me to follow. I made it halfway.

"Bosmer!" I stiffened, rested a hand on my blade, and slowly turned. The Jarl stood, looming like before, way within my 'comfort zone'. He had _no_ respect for boundaries.

"What do you want, _Nord?_" I hissed. A faint squeak made me glance momentarily at Farengar's study-Nyt was staring wide-eyed at us. A grim smile flickered across the Jarl's face.

"I only want to speak to you…?" He trailed off, as if expecting my name.

"About what?" I asked, ignoring the prompt. He was silent for another moment, studying me. I felt Nelkir's eyes on us, wary and angry.

"You've connected with my son. I don't enjoy strangers hanging around my children, especially-"

"Especially what? A Bosmer?" I snapped. I didn't wait for him to reply.

"Nelkir is what, fourteen? Only a few years younger than me. Almost a man, according to you Nords. He isn't stupid." I veritably growled the last words, my eyes so narrowed I knew that I was upsetting Irileth, who was steadily creeping closer.

"If you're so concerned with your son, make amends for your own injustices. Don't use me to do so." As soon as I finished I spun on my heel and stalked towards Nelkir. He frowned at me when I reached his side and let out a breath.

"What marks your coming-of-age?" He asked quietly. He'd heard it all, then. A smile flickered across my lips, but I didn't say what I wanted too. People saw me as a Bosmer-but I was a thief. An orphan, living in the Ratway, avoiding the Guild, and struggling to stay alive in a city so far beyond the point of corruption even the law had given up.

"…My coming-of-age…Probably when I left Honorhall. The woman who runs it-Grelod the Kind, they call her-loathes children. She beat us, starved us, and took delight in it. One day I'd had enough, so I left. Took to the sewers, the canals, the alleys. Learned to fight and how to steal…begged when I had too." I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"How old were you?"

"Seven or so. I'm not entirely sure of how old I am-the first thing I remembered was someone pushing me into Honorhall and leaving. I remember crying for them, but I still can't recall their name or who they were."

Nelkir didn't immediately reply.

"Father's looking at me…You'll have to go alone. The Lady's door is in the basement-head into the kitchen and you'll see the basement's door. The Lady be with you." He said, shifting uncomfortably. I sensed a goodbye in his voice-and I wasn't surprised.

Nelkir's head suddenly snapped up and he looked at something behind me, quickly stepping around me.

"_What were you thinking?!"_ Nyt's voice hissed, before I'd even turned around entirely. She looked furious and was unsuccessfully trying to get around Nelkir, probably to strangle me.

"I told you-no questions. Go to the Inn. I'll meet you there later." I hissed back.

"Not until you tell me what in Oblivion was going through your-"

"She said to go." Nelkir interrupted, his voice cold and empty again. I had the feeling he was talking to me as well as Nyt, so I turned and headed towards where I assumed the kitchen was (Which meant I followed the smell of roasting meat). And, by headed, I mean bolted. I was gone within seconds.

There were no cooks or servants in the kitchen, ironically, so the door to the basement remained unguarded. I snatched what food I could discreetly carry without getting caught. Nyt and I were stuck together out of necessity, but I had no interest in spending any of my gold and only Mara knew how much she had. I could deal with sleeping outdoors, but I was in no mood to starve.

It took a few minutes of poking around in the basement before the silent voice returned to guide me.

_"There….hidden beneath the Jarl's useless furniture, buried beneath the straw…"_ There was no small amount of anger in her voice and I couldn't blame her. This section of the basement had dirt floors, and was in bad shape. Piles of old and broken furniture cluttered the hall I was in, and straw was piled almost to my knees at the base of the door. A faint whispering sound escaped the keyhole and drifted around me as I studied it.

Yes, this was definitely the Whispering Door.

It seemed flimsy, though. Rotted and sagging on its hinges, it appeared as if a single blow could shatter it. I'd been envisioning something a little more…._powerful_.

"Are you Mephala or Meridia?" I asked, resting one hand on the doorknob and holding the key tightly in my other hand. Soft laughter flitted through my mind, but I received no answer.

She had to be Mephala. Meridia was too proud, from the accounts I'd read. Pride seemed to be a pretty big issue with Daedric Lords, actually.

The whole door-opening event was actually pretty anticlimactic. No loud 'BOOM' shook Dragonsreach, no mad laughter and screams of "I'm free!" filled the air, no magic poured forth to devour me, no monsters lunged, and no giant holes opened beneath my feet. All I got was a faint, "_That's better…"_ from Mephala, and doors that swung open soundlessly.

Well, the key disappeared, so I guess it wasn't _entirely_ a waste.

The only items in the room were a strange looking black sword-the Ebony Blade-and a worn book. I pocketed the book, but when I reached for the sword, I felt a _very_ threatening hum from my hip.

Damn.

"_Why do you hesitate?"_

"…Leave this for Nelkir. He'll serve you better than I ever could." I murmured, taking a step back. My sword about squealed with joy.

The air around me suddenly felt empty, as if someone had vanished. I flinched. After a few seconds of silence I turned to leave.

And found Nyt standing in the doorway.

"What in Oblivion was _that_?"

**xXxXxXx**

**Thanks for the reviews ^.^ Means lot. Agent Firebird is being VERY lazy. But homework is killing us both, so I don't know when she'll post...But other than that, enjoy~!**

**(Sorry for the Whispering Door thing-I just HAD to put it in. I LOVE Nelkir. He's the best creepy little kid in the game, and there are a LOT).**


	4. Chapter 4

"_How much did you pay for this room?"_ I demanded, gaping at the room Nyt had just rented. It was about a thousand times bigger-and nicer-than any room I'd ever seen, save the Jarl's quarters in Mistveil. It even had a _balcony_. An _indoor_ balcony.

Nyt frowned at my obvious shock as she dropped her equipment in a pile at the foot of the mammoth-sized bed. I slowly set my own weapons down on the table, dropping my bags and other belongings on the floor beside it.

"I'm friends with the Innkeeper. I did something for her; she sets me up in the nicest room three times in return." She said, absently resting a hand on a windowsill.

"You should be happy-this is the third time." She added. I scowled at the back of her head, but I was still in shock. It wasn't surprising-most thieves like me, who considered a semi-dry semi-clean spot of stone good sleeping grounds, wouldn't have believed in the sheer enormity of this room, nor its grandness.

There were even books on the end table!

"What did you do?" I asked, glancing around as I picked up one of the books. _Nope…I've read that one_.

"Umm….I retrieved a family heirloom." She replied hesitantly. She stared studiously at the ground. I could smell her lie a mile away.

I glanced up at the ceiling-and the chandelier that hung from it-and mouthed a prayer to the Divines. I was tempted to begin a melodramatic rant-starting, of course, with me screaming, "Is this a dream?!".

I looked away long enough to cast her a scathing look, obvious indication I didn't believe her. I saw a flicker cross her face-she was blaming my disbelief on her race. I was _so_ going to kill her.

"What was that thing back there in the Jarl's basement, anyway?" She demanded suddenly, changing the subject.

"A Daedric Lord. Mephala, to be exact." I replied. She hadn't said a word about what had happened after I'd dragged her out of Dragonsreach. I didn't know if she'd heard Mephala speaking or if she'd just seen the blade-but I was determined to leave it for Nelkir, and I wanted as little exact information to leak out as possible.

"Oh…" She murmured, stretching as she began to unstrap her obviously heavy Ebony armor.

"What-just an 'oh'? I would've thought you'd freak out." I taunted, amused. She seemed to be very old-fashioned and righteous, sort of like a Vigilante except a lot less fanatical. I hadn't expected _that _response. Unless she didn't believe me, but I doubted that.

"Nope. 'Cause I have my own Daedric Lord to worry about."

"Seriously." I requested. Her tone was too flippant for her to be entirely serious, but it was obviously not a lie.

"Um, yeah. I'm their Champion…They weren't very clear on the details."

Not surprising.

"Well? Which Lord is it?" I prodded. There was no way I was letting _this_ slip past me.

"Molag-Bal."

I couldn't hold back my laughter.

"Molag-Bal? The Daedric Lord of domination? Why in Oblivion would he pick _you_?"

"What, and you think _you're_ more suited to the job?!" She cried back, stiffening defensively.

"_Me_? No. I could possibly see Hermaeus Mora, but that's doubtful because as much as I love knowledge, I've no background. And, you know, my sword-" I gestured at it and felt it hum with pleasure "-but no. This isn't about me. The fact the Daedric Lord of….Do you even know who he is?"

She scowled at me, an obvious indicator her pride was keeping her from saying 'no'. This followed by a fifteen minute rant consisting of me unloading all the information I knew about Molag-Bal onto her, and watching her face go from angry to horrified to disgusted and back to angry.

"Shut up!" She finally shouted, throwing an empty goblet at me. I easily sidestepped and flashed her a grin.

"Good. I'm hungry. Is the food here as good as the décor?"

Another glare. She was going to be an _expert_ glarer by the time we parted company.

xXxXx

"Nyt."

"Nyt."

"Nyt."

"Lizard."

"Scaly."

"Cousin of a dragon."

"By the gods, wake up already!" I cried exasperatedly, slamming my pillow onto Nyt's head for the twelfth time. Her tail twitched slightly in response, but other than that, nothing. I muttered a very inappropriate oath and clambered off the bed, settling cross-legged on the floor in front of her stuff.

Fine. If she was going to sleep all Middas, I would entertain myself.

I'd pocketed all of her books and a bit of her gold (Not much),replaced everything else exactly the way it was supposed to be, hidden my spoils perfectly, eaten, dressed, and packed, by the time she woke up.

"Where are we headed?" I asked, tossing one of the books that had been provided by the Innkeeper onto the table. Nyt glowered at me and yawned, showing me all of the little pointy teeth that make up an Argonian's maw.

"You know the shout that tore across the sky? That was the Greybeards. They've summoned me…So we've got to head to Ivarstead. But first I have to speak to the Jarl."

I would have actually gone to a sermon at the Temple of Mara to hear her say the last part. I had absolutely no desire to go anywhere _near_ the Greybeards, High Hrothgar, _or_ Ivarstead. Not after my blow-up with Argneir.

Within ten minutes Nyt had all of her stuff together and was headed out of the Inn with me, to my surprise. She may take forever to sleep, but she had certainly perfected the art of packing in a hurry.

The Jarl glared at me throughout the conversation, which I paid little to no attention to. Nyt received a pretty expensive looking sword of elven make, glittering with a powerful enchantment. I heard the Jarl mention something about being a Thane. I noticed Nelkir skulking around the bookcases, and then I heard the mention of gold.

"What now?" I asked, jumping closer to Nyt. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Um, there's a house for sale." Nyt muttered.

"Does it have bookcases?"

"Yes, but it isn't furnished yet, and that will…cost extra." A seedy looking-and trust me, I knew seedy when I saw it-Imperial added slyly, inching closer to us.

"It costs nearly six thousand septims, septims I do not have!" Nyt protested.

"That's alright. Just put my name on the deed with hers." I said, dropping a bag on the ground in front of the Imperial. The noise it released made it clear what was in it.

"I offered my _Thane_ a home here in Whiterun, not a-"

"Look, you want the Dragonborn as a Thane only to boost your political status. She knows it and would have just refused you had I heard nothing about gold or bookcases. Take it or leave it." I snapped. Nyt shifted very uncomfortable-she probably didn't want all of this attention focused on her.

"Um, Athe? Can you come here for a second?" She hissed, grabbing my arm and dragging me back a few steps. It wasn't much of a difference and it wasn't like there was any more privacy in the new spot than the old-but she probably felt there was.

"What? You can let me pay for the house." I said, kindly refraining from pointing out all of the money I'd taken from her was in the bag still resting at the Imperial's feet.

"Yeah-that's the point. I already _have_ a house."

"…You already have a house." I echoed, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Um, yeah."

"And you decide to tell me this now?"

"Yeah?" She questioned, my annoyance seeming to catch her off-guard. I looked towards my bag of cash and saw the Imperial sneaking closer to us, mouth opened as if to jump in and involve himself in our affairs. Nyt's mouth snapped shut and she turned to glare at him as well. Seeing the expression on our faces, he backed up.

"So…are there books there?"

"Yes." She answered too quickly. So there probably were books-but not ones she'd read, and definitely not ones she could list the title of by heart.

"Is it a nice house?"

"Yes."

"Where's it at?"

"Windhelm."

No. Just…_No_. How in Mara's name had an _Argonian _managed to get a house in-or anywhere _near_, for that matter-_Windhelm?!_ The Stormcloaks were incredibly racist-more so than the average Nord-and had forced me into a fight more times than I cared to recount on my way to the Barrow. And I'd been disguised, too.

She resolutely turned her gaze away from me, folding her arms across her chest.

"Well, we're buying this one. By this point, your other home has got to be torched, rubble, burned, ruined-whatever you want to call it. And I refuse to ever enter a house in _Windhelm_." _Unless I'm stealing from it_, I silently added. I marched back over to the Imperial to complete the transaction, leaving Nyt behind.

"Who said you were ever going into my house?" She muttered-obviously thinking I couldn't hear her.

"I did." I called over my shoulder.

We didn't speak until we had left Whiterun and made it past all of the farmsteads clustering around the city.

"We can't go to the Greybeards." I finally said, breaking the thick silence.

"Why not?" Nyt snapped, turning to face me. I scowled at her.

"I went. Arngeir recited off the prophecy that the Greybeards protect and that nonsense, and told me I had to go get one of their sacred artifacts for them. He only wants us to go so he can exploit us."

"Us?"

"He knows I'm the Dovahkiin. If we tell him there's not one, but two….Imagine. I've already told him no. You haven't. You haven't ever even spoken to him. So he'll manipulate you, get you to denounce anything to do with me, and then turn around and work with me to do the same to you, whether I want it or not. Just like the Jarl only wants you as a Thane to boost the power Whiterun will hold over Skyrim."

"Well then, what do you suppose we do, _O mighty Dovahkiin_?" She snarled. She was enraged and looked like she was about to draw her weapon and hurtle herself at me.

I got that look a _lot_.

"We can go to Riften." I replied, unable to hide a slight smirk. We had to at least _pretend_ we were headed to Ivarstead and Riften was the next best choice. Well, the first best choice, actually.

"_What?!_ I am _not_ going to _Riften!"_ She cried, absolutely horrified at the idea.

Ah. That's right. _Some_ people had morals.

I took her disgust personally. If she was upset about the prospect of a thief, I couldn't imagine her expression if she were to learn how _I'd_ lived. Most thieves had a home, or at least the Guild. I'd slept in trees-even beneath the docks-just to find a safe place to sleep.

"Suit yourself. I'm going, whether you come or not." I said coldly, spinning on my heel and marching down the road.

"Athe…"

"Athe!" I stopped and glanced at Nyt over my shoulder.

"That's the way to Falkreath, not Riften."

"I knew that. I had to see if you were actually abandoning me or not _somehow_."

**XXXXXX**

**So Fire started this chapter off with the Molag Bal thing-I twisted the characters a bit to make them more like their personalties allow, but other than that these chapters should be pretty similar.**

**If you don't like my depictions of the characters (Alright, alright, I'm kinda sorry a little bit for Proventus. He isn't THAT creepy. But Balgruuf had to be to fit the whole not-bonding-with-my-son deal. And, question. Do they ever reveal who Nelkir's mother is anyway?) why are you reading this? o.O**


	5. Chapter 5

"_Nyt!"_ I hissed, kicking the bundled form of the sleeping Argonian. I darted back, my fingers held tightly around my bow as she bolted up.

"What?!" She snarled, pushing herself to her feet.

"_Listen!"_

She opened up her mouth to snarl at me again, but froze as the sounds of a hunt echoed through the forest.

It was black as Oblivion with only the barest silver of the moon edging the tree branches above us. I'd been keeping watch, but I couldn't actually see anything-I doubted even a Khajiit could have seen anything.

Then the sounds had begun.

I was used to not letting noises terrify me, but this…was something other. Creatures-_large_ creatures-were hunting something. A human, maybe. Whatever this hunt was, it was circling our tiny camp.

My blade hummed excitedly, eager for the taste of blood. I wasn't in any state for melee fighting, though. I had no armor. I wore only a tunic and trousers, both of which were worn and had seen much better days-and from the noise, whatever was out there was meant for melee combat.

Nyt had her armor on and she pressed her back against mine-or as close as she could get, with a tail and all. She set a small lantern to the side of the tiny clearing, illuminating the immediate area.

A snarl, a roar, and then the undergrowth in front of me exploded.

Someone-a person-fell to the dirt just as a massive beast rose up behind them.

It resembled some horrid mix between a wolf and man. Huge, taller than anyone I'd ever seen before, and hunched slightly, it drew its lips back in a snarl when it saw me. Blood coated the werewolf's claws, and dripped from its muzzle.

I let the arrow fly.

I didn't really want to kill it-there was a person in there, and even if they were fully aware of what they were doing, I wasn't a murderer. I was a _thief_. The arrow struck the werewolf in its shoulder, but it barley flinched. I tossed my bow to the side and drew my blade, just in time to block one of its massive paws.

I felt Nyt vanish from behind me and heard a snarl that definitely did _not_ come from my particular werewolf, so I didn't risk looking back. I let my blade take control and it did so happily, with a squeal of joy. I concentrated on avoiding the werewolf's blows as best I could. Suddenly the werewolf stopped its attacks and glanced behind it, snarling.

And then I realized what exactly was going on.

The person who'd fallen earlier had one white hand grasped around the werewolf's ankle, and their head was raised as they glared at it. Fangs protruded out of their mouth.

"Nyt-we need to leave." I called, inching back. I had no desire to get in the middle of this type of fight, whatever it was. The werewolf's head snapped up to regard me for a second, and then it turned its full attention back to the vampire.

_Thank Mara_. Now to convince Nyt…

Something slammed into my back, sending my flying to the ground. I twisted desperately to avoid impaling myself on my sword-and barely managed (How would that work, anyway? The sword took the lifeforce of those it struck and gave it to its wielder-would I heal? Or would I not get healed at all?). I glanced towards Nyt as I scrambled to get to my feet-just in time to see her finish off her werewolf.

_Damn-_My thoughts were cut off by a sudden howl of pure, unbridled rage. My fingers closed around my sword and I looked at the other werewolf. The remains of the vampire lay scattered across the forest floor. It bolted for Nyt.

Through all of this, I'd entirely forgotten about whatever had struck me. Big mistake.

My sword went flying as I slammed into a tree, a hot, electric pain exploding into existence on my side. I slid, stunned, to the ground. Gingerly, I felt my side.

My fingers went directly into my flesh. It was nothing but a hole. Purple-blue magic crackled around it for a second, then vanished. I looked up and saw another vampire lunging. I managed to chant a ward spell just in time, and a blue shield blossomed into existence around me. It was fragile, entirely inadequate for such an attack, but I knew it would hold for a few more minutes.

I needed my sword.

"_Toor!"_

"Nyt! Get me my sword!" I shouted (Not magically), as loudly as I could with a gaping hole where my lungs were. I assumed the only reason I wasn't dead yet was because the sparks had cauterized the wound as it burned-but even that couldn't last too long.

The vampire slammed the hilt of his sword onto my meager ward again, and it flickered. He grinned.

"NYT!"

My sword swished past the vampire and clanked against a nearby tree root. I reached out to grab it, capturing the vampire's attention. He slammed his sword down on the barrier again-and when he lifted it for another strike, it vanished.

He lunged, and I lifted my sword up.

Now, the wound wasn't fatal-I wouldn't have hit him at all had my sword been a normal sword. But it wasn't, and it was enchanted. A thin nick along the vampire's unprotected shoulder, and I winced as flesh began to grow over my wound, healing it completely. The vampire's strength seemed to vanish and he staggered, slamming head-first into the tree above me. I rolled out of the way as he collapsed, unconscious, to the ground. A pitiful whine drew my attention and I looked up in time to see Nyt decapitate the werewolf-it was _not _a pretty sight.

I staggered away a few steps and promptly hurled into a nearby bush.

"Are you okay?"

"I…They weren't after us. The werewolves." I said shakily, sheathing my blade and mechanically collecting my bow and other belongings.

"And _that's_ why they attacked us." Nyt snorted.

"You-"

"-They tried to kill-"

"-The _vampires!_ Not us-"

"-Both of us and would have-"

"-Left us alone if we would have-"

"-They would have killed us!" She shouted back. I clenched my jaw and turned, walking away.

"Where are you going?" She demanded, hurrying to catch up with me.

"Like I said. Riften."

This time, I went in the right direction.

xXxXxXxXx

I was getting tired of my arsenal of curse words. Like most Riften natives, Mara was the chief deity I swore by. It was the same for most other cities, if they had a Temple-Markarth was Dibella, Windhelm was Talos, Whiterun was Kynareth, Falkreath was Kyne, Winterhold was Azura, and so on and so forth. Swearing by the goddess of compassion and mercy, however, had a very limited effect. And Mara knew-there it is again!-that the Argonian walking a frigid two feet away from me was just as sick of Mara as I was.

"I'm a thief. Not a bandit. I don't kill. I've never killed before and I don't plan on starting now. You have your own codes-no Riften, for example-and I have mine." I finally said, breaking the unforgiving silence.

"We all have our duties." Nyt replied tersely.

"Like ours is to go to Ivarstead?" I snorted. She stopped walking and looked at me.

"You may not care what happens to Skyrim, but I do. This place is my home."

"Home? Or a place you _call_ home?"

She seemed utterly confused by my question.

"Look….You don't kill anyone-or anything unless it's necessary, like, a deer-and I'll _eventually_ go with you to talk to Arngeir. Deal?" I stuck my hand out.

I honestly had every intention of fulfilling this vow. I'd never made a promise that I hadn't fulfilled-mostly because I never made promises.

"…Fine." She muttered.

"Wonderful!" Both of us turned, Nyt drawing her weapon and me jumping behind her. Someone-and by someone, I mean the vampire that had blown a hole through my stomach earlier-crossed his arms.

"How the fu-"

"_Athe!"_ Nyt hissed, cutting me off.

"What?!"

"Don't-"

"You're seriously going to yell at me for cursing? Really? I just spent the past few hours calling you every name I could think of and _now_ you're yelling at me for my language? And now he knows both of our names, thank you _so_ very much!"

"_Ahem_."

"_UL!"_ I Shouted, essentially freezing time for him. Then I realized it also froze Nyt.

"Damn."

I settled cross-legged on the ground a little ways behind both of them and pulled my bow out, stringing it and loading an arrow into it. I shot it at the vampire's foot, and time promptly resumed its natural course.

"By Azura's wisdom-"

"OW!" The vampire cut Nyt off quite nicely.

"Now, walk away. Or, limp. Whatever it is you want to do." I said, ignoring Nyt as she stalked over to my side, glowering at the vampire.

"I didn't come here to kill you!" He cried, glaring just as fiercely as Nyt herself at me.

"But you _did_ blow a hole through my stomach. I _like_ my stomach."

"I didn't mean anything by it!"

"The Oblivion you didn't!" Nyt snapped, apparently deciding he was more annoying than me.

I had to stop to think about that. It was a bit…odd. First time that had ever happened, actually. I didn't know if I liked it.

"Fine-but she _did_ doom my brother to die by werewolf hands! Now I couldn't raise him if I had a whole coven!"

"Yes, yes, Mara damn me, now you can go."

"You're headed to Riften, right?" He shot back, folding his arms across his chest. It didn't look very intimidating, what with his grimace and the arrow protruding out of his foot. The bickering stopped immediately.

"What's it to you?" Nyt demanded, tone entirely cold. _Someone's in trouble…_

"I'm headed in that…general direction too."

"No. _No. _Absolutely _not!"_ I snapped, scrambling to my feet. There was _no_ way in Nirn I was going to travel with a vampire-or, at least a stranger who was a vampire. I wouldn't care much if I knew them.

A stubborn expression came over his face.

"Then I'll just go tell the Jarl that there aren't one, but _two_ Dragonborn's, both headed towards her city."

"Can I kill him?" Nyt demanded.

"You promised!" I cried.

A glaring contest ensured. Nyt was getting really good at looking intimidating-she should join the Companions.

"Fine. But one-_half _of one-wrong step, and I am shoving this through your eyeball. Got it?" Nyt declared.

The vampire scowled.

"Sure."

"I don't like the sounds of that." I muttered.

"_Got it?"_ Nyt repeated, louder and more insistent this time.

"Yes! By Talos, you two are as stubborn as a pair of-" He caught Nyt's glare and fell silent immediately.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Danyhl Grey-Thorn."

"I'm Nyt. This is Athe."

"I already knew that."

"Shut up."

This journey was going to be the _best._

**_XXXXXX_**

_So, guess what? FIRE FINALLY POSTED! Here's the link. Hope you like Danyhl...No, he is not based off anyone. Although a particular friend's Halloween costume did appear startlingly similar, he's just a character we created. Hope you enjoyed this-I know its been a while since the last post..._

_ s/9749911/1/The-Misbegotten-Adventures-of-the-Drag onborn_


	6. Chapter 6

Nyt hung just as closely as I had clung to her in Dragonsreach as we approached Riften. It didn't really help that Danyhl did the same, although he was hiding beneath his cowl and glaring at people rather than the city itself. How long had it been since he'd eaten, anyway? Or…drank. Whatever word he used.

Oh. Taking him into a city teeming with people was _probably_ not a good idea.

"You aren't going to go mad while we're here, are you?" I asked him, stopping a few feet away from the gates. Two guards stood at attention outside of it and glared at us, but I didn't want them overhearing this particular conversation.

Mara knew how much it'd take to bribe them into silence.

"No. I'm not stupid-I know how to take care of myself." He muttered, turning his glare onto me. I returned it and then continued to the gate.

Nyt stopped trying to hug me and hung back, pulling herself up to look threatening. Or maybe she was just going to bolt-I really didn't know.

"Halt. There's a toll, you know. You can't go in 'less you pay it." One of the guards said, looking between the three of us until he settled on me, apparently deciding I was the one in charge. All of my weaponry hung from Danyhl, which made our trio even odder. I was obviously poor, but Nyt was hanging around me protectively and Danyhl seemed inclined to just stand there and glare too, both of them bristling with weapons. The guard probably thought I was in disguise or something.

Plausible excuse, too, because the Stormcloaks didn't care who you were unless you were a Nord. Riften wasn't known to be very Imperial-friendly, but they were a bit more tolerant than Windhelm.

I'd been staring at him expressionlessly while I mulled this over. Without warning a let a slow grin work its way across my face.

"Since when was there a toll?" I asked, leaning forward on the tips of my toes. The guard who hadn't spoken shifted uncomfortably, but the talker didn't.

"Um…forever?" He said, challenging me to tell him he was lying. The other guard snickered.

"Really? Is the Guild still pulling that trick? And here I thought they were _smart_."

It suddenly occurred to me I'd just made a mistake. I'd left Riften mostly for the Barrow, but there'd been another reason, too. And I knew the Guild watched the gates. And that they took insults personally.

Added to the other reason….._May Mara have mercy on my soul_.

"Let 'em through." A third voice suddenly demanded, tone harsh and cold. I didn't visibly recoil when the Breton stalked out of the shadows by the wall, but I knew Nyt was glaring at me. Danyhl handed me my sword, which I strapped on immediately. No matter how hard anyone tried, they wouldn't be able to take it unless my sword _wanted_ to be taken-and then, it was better that it was-so it was safe if the Breton tried to disarm me. The Breton mostly ignored this as he grabbed my arm-painfully-and dragged me past the guards. Danyhl and Nyt followed quickly, Nyt grabbing my other arm just as tightly. He dragged me into a dark alleyway and then turned to face me.

"Are you _stupid_? To come back here after what you did?" The Breton hissed, slamming me into the wall. I winced and shook myself free of Nyt's grasp, ignoring the looks she kept throwing at me.

"I didn't take anything of any value to you, so I don't see why you're so angry. And, honestly, I'd expect more security from the Guildmaster." I added, scowling at him.

"You did _what?"_ Nyt gasped, staring at me like I had suddenly become a Skeever. Danyhl just laughed.

"_That's_ all you have to say for yourself?! The Guild will-"

"Calm down, Mercer. The lass's right, you know." Yet another strange voice piped in. Someone else emerged from the shadows surrounding the wall and stopped beside the Guildmaster, studying me. I shifted uncomfortably and inched closer towards Nyt-I didn't like the scrutiny.

"You took something-"

"I took food. You have absolutely no interesting books in your house and I was starving. What are you going to do? Kill me?" The stranger glanced at Mercer, who glanced back, and then the two scuttled off a few feet and began muttering to each other vehemently.

"You said you left for the Barrow-"

"I did. I just had extra motivation." I said, cutting Nyt off and shrugging. She looked ready to slap me.

"You're stupid, you know. The Guild will never let you join their number now, no matter how good a thief you are." Danyhl added.

"I don't _want_ to join the Guild. And to begin with, I didn't know it was the Guildmaster's house until afterwards-not that it changed anything."

"Good thing we don't care what you want, lass." The stranger declared, making me turn to glare at him.

"You're a good thief. It'd be a waste to kill you. So you're going to join the Guild-do jobs until I think you've repaid me." Mercer declared, glaring sullenly at the stranger. It was apparent Mercer would still rather kill me.

"Um….Yeah, no." Nyt said instantly, shaking her head. He tail thumped against the wood wall agitatedly.

"You don't have a choice." Mercer growled.

"This is so backwards." Danyhl muttered, raking a hand through his hair and then quickly yanking his hood back up when the stranger stared. Danyhl's skin was extremely pale and his eyes gleamed like emeralds-a side effect of vampirism, I assumed. It was an unnerving site, nonetheless.

"What's wrong with you, lad?" The stranger asked.

"A spell went…wrong. I don't care much for looks like yours…hence the cowl." It was a pointed jab at the stranger.

"So if you're forcing me to join the Guild, what about my friends?" I asked. The stranger smiled. Nyt immediately backpedaled.

"No. _No. _Absolutely no! There is no way in Nirn I will ever-"

Too late.

**XXXX**

**Sorry, I couldn't resist. xD We're having too much fun with this.**


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